


Miss Australia

by chrystalised



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, HP - Freeform, Harry Potter STAN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystalised/pseuds/chrystalised
Relationships: Harry Potter/Female OC





	1. CAST

_**I**_ **NTRODUCING.**....

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀 _**! !**_

[DELILAH](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/67/14/b7/6714b7be8a98083e2aa04d9b8d9a990e.gif) [BECKETT](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/67/14/b7/6714b7be8a98083e2aa04d9b8d9a990e.gif)

( _portrayed by florence pugh ! )_

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐒 ( 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍 ) _**!**_

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8d/6d/df/8d6ddfc3b413f9250fc09fe842f80583.gif) [HERMIONE](https://i.gifer.com/XFju.gif) [GRANGER](https://i.gifer.com/XFju.gif) [❜](https://data.whicdn.com/images/332143015/original.gif)

( _portrayed by emma watson ! )_

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d9/df/aa/d9dfaaa14910977f85db8b70e388e304.gif) [RON](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6d/2c/29/6d2c29acfd889e9e5576700e2af065fc.gif) [WEASLEY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6d/2c/29/6d2c29acfd889e9e5576700e2af065fc.gif) [❜](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ef/fc/73/effc7355e64cbde04f3837590d19b08a.gif)

( _portrayed by rupert grint ! )_

[❛](https://i.gifer.com/DZWe.gif) [HARRY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e0/6a/e2/e06ae23f35436de54ae3e21764418472.gif) [POTTER](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e0/6a/e2/e06ae23f35436de54ae3e21764418472.gif) [❜](https://media1.tenor.com/images/f1d0a592a4e3484c24d51e71855a8e0f/tenor.gif?itemid=17347571)

( _portrayed by daniel radcliffe !_ )

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/44/b1/4e/44b14e08282486afc7701514e84e9efa.gif) [FRED](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0c/c7/5c/0cc75c044387693578d2168da8eebdd2.gif) [WEASLEY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0c/c7/5c/0cc75c044387693578d2168da8eebdd2.gif) [❜](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/83/51/d3/8351d34a4761a44f58cb617c97b83f76.gif)

( _portrayed by james phelps !_ )

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/03/3f/47/033f47b6b880b69e19ea4de3c98ae83a.gif) [GEORGE](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/67/59/83/6759835516bdf644a1a6a9d9bf2027c1.gif) [WEASLEY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/67/59/83/6759835516bdf644a1a6a9d9bf2027c1.gif) [❜](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/87/b4/3f/87b43f7a97a85e503eca9655e91da1e4.gif)

( _portrayed by oliver phelps_ _!_ )

[❛](https://gifimage.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/alfred-enoch-gif-12.gif) [DEAN](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/EqualLeadingElephant-small.gif) [THOMAS](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/EqualLeadingElephant-small.gif) [❜](https://37.media.tumblr.com/721fa5c2d2d2df1abe169e3bf7943280/tumblr_n7zevpJJkk1sirxd7o1_250.gif)

( _portrayed by alfred enoch !_ )

[❛](https://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8wd20eqQy1qeijfbo1_250.gif) [LAVENDER](https://media0.giphy.com/media/oBfiN3ZSuUEdq/giphy.gif) [BROWN](https://media0.giphy.com/media/oBfiN3ZSuUEdq/giphy.gif) [❜](https://pa1.narvii.com/6844/8c69225e44e31b3f830d24968df9f616afe067d1_00.gif)

( _portrayed by jessie cave !_ )

[❛](https://i.gifer.com/ARfd.gif) [NEVILLE](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ac/7d/06/ac7d0672763e3f05617646edd87d4719.gif) [LONGBOTTOM](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ac/7d/06/ac7d0672763e3f05617646edd87d4719.gif) [❜](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7f/d4/1e/7fd41eedd96f33991658c9a66c197aeb.gif)

( _portrayed by matthew lewis !_ )

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b1/ba/15/b1ba1530123529b32b13fc0ff70d60f6.gif) [OLIVER](https://media.tenor.com/images/475a342b819381c018f7568a07b7f80a/tenor.gif) [WOOD](https://media.tenor.com/images/475a342b819381c018f7568a07b7f80a/tenor.gif) [❜](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/HoarseMelodicCaimanlizard-small.gif)

( _portrayed by sean biggerstaff !_ )

[❛](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AcidicRectangularAllensbigearedbat-size_restricted.gif) [DRACO](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/72/7a/07/727a07885cff8c0a89df6956ab2b5bcc.gif) [MALFOY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/72/7a/07/727a07885cff8c0a89df6956ab2b5bcc.gif) [❜](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/63/26/db/6326dbaa296e4c4cb64ba0093655448e.gif)

( _portrayed by tom felton !_ )

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d2/7a/61/d27a6141fa566f545bacb8b593f36a51.gif) [PANSY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/21/3e/cc/213eccd758170c0be47b9dbfa221c030.gif) [PARKINSON](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/21/3e/cc/213eccd758170c0be47b9dbfa221c030.gif) [❜](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AdoredEsteemedIguanodon-size_restricted.gif)

( _portrayed by scarlett byrne !_ )

[❛](https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/tumblr-np8d8m5t4t1u1vo97o1-500-1496760156.gif?crop=1xw:1xh;center,top&resize=480:*) [VINCENT](https://media.giphy.com/media/1I332CFwGfZ6M/giphy.gif) [CRABBE](https://media.giphy.com/media/1I332CFwGfZ6M/giphy.gif) [❜](https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/tumblr-np8d8m5t4t1u1vo97o1-500-1496760156.gif?crop=1xw:1xh;center,top&resize=480:*)

( _portrayed by jamie waylett !_ )

[❛](https://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvwykiAXhO1qmuabao3_250.gif) [GREGORY](https://cdn.lowgif.com/full/d290a8298da5db60-.gif) [GOYLE](https://cdn.lowgif.com/full/d290a8298da5db60-.gif) [❜](https://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvwykiAXhO1qmuabao3_250.gif)

( _portrayed by josh herdman !_ )

[❛](https://media.tenor.com/images/9b9f934b310bc12d6d8149ef30f88aee/tenor.gif) [LUNA](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/95/ac/6a/95ac6a10a651489e42c613e2cd4bda5b.gif) [LOVEGOOD](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/95/ac/6a/95ac6a10a651489e42c613e2cd4bda5b.gif) [❜](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AlarmedEvergreenBarracuda-size_restricted.gif)

( _portrayed by evanna lynch !_ )

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ef/b0/5d/efb05dc2d977fda09f13c2809c676bdc.gif) [SEAMUS](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/11/04/6f/11046f8d10d61d455a210103fc300f4d.gif) [FINNIGAN](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/11/04/6f/11046f8d10d61d455a210103fc300f4d.gif) [❜](https://i.imgur.com/BNrdrx8.gif)

( _portrayed by devon murray !_ )

[❛](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/aa/18/05/aa18054c12c583c512bbb3f894d74fc1.gif) [DESTINY](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/7f/95/567f95bd5fe621e4e14921b4849175f5.gif) [BERNARD](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/7f/95/567f95bd5fe621e4e14921b4849175f5.gif) [❜](https://media1.tenor.com/images/8d2eb3a33381e22ff9e5b9c9061043dd/tenor.gif?itemid=18316008)

( _portrayed by millie bobby brown !_ )

❛ TO BE FAIR, I DON'T KNOW WHAT I THOUGHT I WAS DOING WHEN I AGREED ON GOING TO A SCHOOL FULL OF BRITS ❜

**\--- DELILAH BECKETT**

AUTHOR'S NOTE

so, this book yet again is dedicated to one of the most freaking amazing people on this hell of a website. [Theodosia](https://www.quotev.com/Potterhead2402), i literally just told you that i was dedicating this book to you like three minutes ago so i hope that you like this cast list. the first chapter is going to come out tonight because my fingers don't hurt yet.


	2. New Year, New Girl

❛ TELL ME SOMETHING NICE, LIKE FLOWERS AND BLUE SKIES ❜

—— **I WANNA BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND, GIRL IN RED**

[NEW GIRL, NEW YEAR](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/48/08/3b/48083b1aea95b983b44a64c881fc74a9.gif)

THE ENTRANCE HALL WAS ABLAZE WITH TORCHES AND ECHOING WITH FOOTSTEPS as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the Hall, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing each other's new haircuts and robes. Again Harry noticed people putting their hands together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed, nor cared.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached the Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed away by some fellow fourth years and left to go sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: He was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall. 

"He's not there."

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup. 

"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," said Harry firmly.

"You don't think he's . . . _hurt_ or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily.

"No," said Harry at once.

"But where is he, then?"

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati, and Lavender could not hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know —— from his mission —— the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

"Yeah . . . yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

"Who's _that_?" she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table. 

Harry's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched her fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"It's that Umbridge woman!"

"Who?" said Hermione.

"She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!"

"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking.

"She works for Fudge?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "Who on earth's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno . . ."

Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed. 

"No," she muttered, "no, surely not . . ."

Harry did not understand what she was talking about but did not ask; his attention had just been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's. That meant that the first years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the entrance hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first years, led by Professor Mcgonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim. 

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor Mcgonagall placed the stool carefully in front of the them, then stood back.

The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle row looked as though he was trembling. Harry recalled, fleetingly, how terrified he had felt when he had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which the House he belonged.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school_

_And pass along their learning._

_"Together we will build and teach!"_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they that they_

_Might someday be divided,_

_For their were such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell_

_The whole sad, sorry tale_

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_

_Whose ancestry is purest."_

_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those who's_

_Intelligence is surest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_

_With brave deeds to their name."_

_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,_

_And treat them all the same."_

_These differences caused little strife_

_When first came to light._

_For each of the four founders had_

_A House in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning, just like him._

_And only those of sharpest mind_

_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus the houses and their founders_

_Retained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

_For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us_

_Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four,_

_Had once held up our school,_

_Now turned upon each other and,_

_Divided, sought to rule,_

_And for a while it seemed the school_

_Must meet an early end._

_What with dueling and fighting_

_And the clash of friend on friend_

_And at last there came a morning_

_When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting died out_

_He left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_

_Were whittled down to three_

_Ha_ ve _the house been united_

_As they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_

_And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into Houses_

_Because that is what I'm for_

_But this year I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether Sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear_.

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes._

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within._

_I have told you, I have warned you . . . ._

_Let the Sorting now begin._

The hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his red eyebrows raised.

"Too right it has," said Harry.

The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts Houses and its own role in sorting them; Harry could not remember it every trying to give the school advice before.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious. 

"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her ( _Neville winced, it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you_ ). "The hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels ——"

But Professor Mcgonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept along the four House tables, Professor Mcgonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out,

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The terrified-looking boy that Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forward and put the hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted, " _GRYFFINDOR!_ "

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor House as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would very much like to sink through the floor and never be looked at again. 

Slowly the long line of first years thinned; in the pauses between the name and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor Mcgonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore stood.

Harry was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all, whatever his recent bitter feelings towards his headmaster. Between the absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, he had felt that his return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed to be: their headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands —— welcome back!" Dumbledore cleared his throat. "But before we enjoy the excellent feast, I would like to introduce a new student that will be joining the fifth years, Delilah Beckett!"

The entrance hall doors opened, and in walked an annoyed girl.

She had dirty blonde locks that fell past her shoulders and was left out, wispy strands of hair framing her face. She was wearing a grey pleated skirt, a white long sleeve button up with a collar that stuck out under her slightly over-sized black crew-neck, and a plain, Hogwarts tie around her collar. Her black leather boots —— they had a platform on the bottom and black laces —— made a small thudding sound whenever they hit the marble ground. Her arms were crossed over her chest and an unfathomable scowl was etched on her pale pink lips. 

She walked over to Dumbledore, her brown eyes boring into his. She didn't even flinch under his steady gaze, and wiped her ear with the back of her hand.

Dumbledore whispered something to her, to which she scoffed at, and then he grinned.

"Alright then, Delilah! I'll introduce you for you!" said Dumbledore cheerfully.

"If you're trying to do one of those things where you think I'll be embarrassed by you introducing me, it's not working," whispered Delilah in an undertone, rolling her eyes. 

Dumbledore seemed to have not heard her.

"Delilah Beckett is a fifteen year old girl ——"

"Well-spotted," muttered Delilah.

"—— who is coming to Hogwarts all the way from Australia!"

"Australia?"

"Boo!"

"Aussie's suck!"

Delilah responded by holding up both of her middle fingers to the Hall, momentarily shocking everyone. Then, after receiving a look from Dumbledore, she moved her middle finger and rubbed her eye, a sarcastic smile on her face. 

"Professor Mcgonagall, if you don't mind getting out the Sorting Hat once more?" said Dumbledore, turning his gaze to Mcgonagall, who pursed her lips and nodded, standing from her seat and exiting the Great Hall to the chamber. She came back a moment later, carefully holding a wooden stool in one hand, and the ancient Sorting Hat in the other.

Delilah just frowned as the stool was put down, and shook her head. Mcgonagall pursed her lips, turning to the girl with her eyebrows raised. Delilah stared right back into her eyes, her own brown eyes boring into Mcgonagall's. Delilah wiped the back of her ear, and then wiped her hand on her skirt. 

"Can we just get on with this stupid sorting?" asked Delilah, rolling her eyes. 

"I would be delighted to," said Dumbledore with a grin.

"Stupid brits," muttered Delilah, kicking her foot on the ground. "Put the freaking hat —— oh my god. That is revolting, mate."

Dumbledore chuckled and Delilah took the hat, her button nose scrunched up.

"Do you check this for lice?" asked Delilah. 

"No," said Mcgonagall sharply.

"That's stupid."

"Excuse me?" said Mcgonagall, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"You have this hat for thousands of years, touching thousands of heads. One person in that bunch must have had lice, yet you don't get it checked. I don't really want lice, mate."

"I can assure you, Delilah, the hat does not have lice," said Dumbledore, smiling at the teen, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Right . . ." said Delilah. "Then what? I put it on my head?"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore.

Delilah grimaced as she placed the hat over her head, covering her ears. 

_Who is that girl?_

_Merlin, she's fit._

_Aussie?_

_THIS IS A SCHOOL FOR ENGLISH PEOPLE!!_

The hat shouted, after a large moment of complentation, " _GRYFFINDOR!_ " Delilah quickly pulled that hat off of her head, dropping it on the ground like it held a disease, and then turned to Dumbledore, her eyebrows raised. He pointed to the table that had students wearing scarlet and gold ties.

"Now that our new student has been Sorted," said Dumbledore, "I shall continue with my not-a-speech. There is a time for speech making, but this is not. Tuck in!" 

The was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate —— for the food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," said Ron with a kind of groan of longing., and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick. Delilah's nose scrunched up in disgust, as she was sitting across the table from the group of three —— the round-faced boy, the girl with blonde curly hair, and the seemingly Indian girl with beautiful long hair moved down the table when Delilah came to sit. 

"Oi!" someone said. Delilah ignored them. "Aussie! Aussie —— she's ignoring us. Up ye get, Fred." Two redheaded boys sat next to Ron —— who was sitting next to Hermione, being stuck in the middle of the two boys. "Aussie ——"

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were watching the brown-haired girl intently. She hadn't said a single thing her entire time of entering the Great Hall —— from what they heard from their seats at the Gryffindor House Table, anyways. 

"What?" said Delilah irritatedly. 

"Just wanted to know ——"

"Whatever you're about to say, save it, Redhead," snapped Delilah, rubbing her ear. She could hear everyone's thoughts.

_Mhm! This is good!_

_What is wrong with Aussie?_

_Who wouldn't want to talk to amazing people like Freddie and I?_

_Merlin, I'm STARVING!_

_Why's that Umbridge lady here?_

_Drown out the thoughts, drown out the thoughts_ , Delilah repeated in her head feverishly, rubbing the dripping blood off of her ear.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked Delilah.

"I'm fine," said Delilah, pulling out a flask from the band of her skirt. She leaned down and opened it, then sneakily dumped it into an empty goblet. Quickly, she screwed the lid back on and then tucked it back in her waistband, picking up the goblet and swirling the strong substance around in her fingers. 

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked the ghost. "About the hat giving warnings?"

"Oh, yes," said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I've heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, it's advice is always the same: Stand together, be strong from within."

"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?" said Ron.

His mouth was so full that Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all. 

"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a hat?"

"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nick. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks up things there."

"And it wants all of the Houses to be friends?" said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. "Fat chance." Delilah snorted as she took a bite of a sauteed potato that tasted a bit like a french fry. 

"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nick reprovingly. "Peaceful cooperation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to seperate Houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."

"Only because you're terrified of him," said Ron with a snort as he sawed at his pork chops with a gleaming silver knife. 

Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted. 

"Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in veins ——"

"What blood?" asked Delilah, her eyebrows raised. "You're a ghost, mate. You have no blood."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Surely you haven't still got ——?"

"It's a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick, no so annoyed that his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. "I assume that I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever use of words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drink are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"

"Nick, they wasn't really laughing at you!" said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron while Delilah smirked, drinking out of her goblet.

"I was," said Delilah.

Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to an exploding point again and all he could manage was "node iddum eentup sechew," which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straighten his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis. 

"Well done, Ron," snapped Hermione. 

"What?" said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. "Am I not allowed to ask a simple question? Aussie did too!"

Delilah scoffed as Hermione shifted her glare onto her.

"Look, I don't know you are, and you sure as hell don't know me, but that ghost was an idiot and used that figure of speech in a completely ironic way. He's a bloody ghost, girl. He probably doesn't even have feelings," said Delilah, glaring into Hermione's so hard that Hermione had to break away.

"Oh forget it," said Hermione irritably.

Delilah ignored them for the remainder of the feast, drinking out of her silver, white diamond encrusted flash —— she had taken it out of her mother's things, since she would have no use to them anymore.

Harry was used to Ron and Hermione's bickering, but Delilah —— or whatever name was —— was a whole 'nother level. She seemed to get irritated easily, and Harry made a mental note on not to get her angry. He noticed during the feast that she would pull something out of her pocket and then bring her silver goblet to the side, and then bring the goblet back up again, rubbing her right ear. He could've sworn that he saw blood on her hand before she wiped it off onto her black skirt. 

When the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. The talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. 

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I bet a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the forest in the ground is out of bounds to students —— and a few of our older students out to know, too," Dumbledore looked at Delilah for a moment. "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things that can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door. 

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking the Care for Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause during which, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching. 

Dumbledore continued. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the ——"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, where nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, " _Hem, hem,_ " and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech. 

Dumbledora only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alerty at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. other members of the staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprouts eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor Mcgonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and a little girlish, and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat clearing ("hem, hem") and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Delilah glanced around. None of the faces she could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old. Delilah and Harry made eye contact, their eyes both saying, "Is this woman crazy?" and then turned their attention back to the toadlike woman.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow her cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words and a dull learned-by-heart sound to them

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing it not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generation lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble professor of teaching." Professor Umbridge paused her speech, made a little bow to her staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor Mcgonagall's eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, the progress for progress' sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . ."

Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan was one of the few staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure that he was only pretending to listen in attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest. Harry noticed that Delilah had her head rested in her palm and was rubbing her ear vigorously as she fought to keep her eyes open.

"Merlin, does this lady ever stop talking?" said Delilah. Harry murmured in agreement.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

". . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfecting, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unaware by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before Delilah could sit upright and start clapping ( Harry noticed that she was covering her ear with her hair, rubbing hair continuously --- it must be a habit ), Dumbledore had stood again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ." 

"Yes, that was most certainly illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice, making Delilah snort.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"She said illuminating, not enjoyable, mate," said Delilah, picking at her nails.

"Right, what er . . . what's your name?" said Hermione, looking at Delilah.

"Delilah Beckett. We're not friends," said Delilah.

"Charming," said Hermione. "Well, Ron, it explained a lot."

"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a loud of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly.

"Was there?" said Ron blankly.

Delilah snorted, and Hermione sent her an exasperated and slightly aggravated look.

"How about: 'Progress for progress' sake must be discouraged?' How about: 'Pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited?'" said Hermione.

"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Delilah without a hint interest. "Means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was ready to leave the hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey —— hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy . . ."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets! First years!" Hermione called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"

A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small; Harry was sure that he had not appeared that young when he had arrived here. He grinned at them as Delilah stood, uninterestedly glancing at the tiny children that were huddled around Ron and Hermione, not far from where she was standing. A blonde boy next to Euan Abercrombi looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry, who felt the grin slide off his face light Stinksap. Delilah's brow furrowed. Does this have something to do with what her father told her about that happened last year at Hogwarts.

"Err, Potter, right?" said Delilah in attempt to save him from the awkwardness.

"Yeah, what?" said Harry, turning to face her annoyedly.

"I'm new, mate. I don't know where the common room is. Mind showing me?" said Delilah, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her ear.

_It's Harry Potter! Mum said he's a nutter . . wonder if he is a nutter! Seems like a nutter . . . WHY'S THAT GIRL LOOKING AT ME? GOD, LOOK AWAY!_ Delilah grimaced at what the first year boy was thinking.

"Sure," said Harry with a shrug. "Err . . . come along, then."

"You're so awkward," said Delilah with a snort. Harry grinned.

"See you later," he said to Ron and Hermione and he motioned for Delilah to follow him and the two made their may out of the Great Hall, doing everything he could to ignore more whispering, staring, and pointings as he passed.

"Potter?" said Delilah.

"Hm?" said Harry.

"Why're those blokes staring at you? And whispering behind their hands. This is like some cliche high school Muggle film where the girl has a quick pash with some football bloke and then everyone calls her a slut."

Harry was confused. "Pash?" he said.

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Right, forgot you were a Brit. It means kissing —— you British people say snogging, right? That word's weird, in my opinion, though I can only imagine that you think the word pash is weird as well."

Harry let out a sniff out laughter, running a hand through his messy black hair as they walked up the moving stairs.

"People are staring at me because of something that happened last year," said Harry. Delilah was grinning. "What?"

"You're accent. It's just . . weird." Harry snorted.

"You're accent sounds pretty weird to me too," said Harry. They had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and came to a halt in front of the portrait to the Fat Lady before he realised that he did not know the new password. "Er . . . " said Harry glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.

"No password, no entrance," she said loftily.

"Hasn't she known you, for what, five years?" said Delilah, her eyebrows raised as she eyed the portrait.

"Harry, I know it!" someone panted behind him and he turned to see Neville jogging towards him. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once ——" He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown Harry on the train. "Mimbulus mimbletonia!"

"Correct," said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open towards them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall bhind, through which Neville let Delilah climb through first.

The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cozy, circular tower room full of dilapidated squishy armchair and rickety old tables. The fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley ( the boys who had attempted to speak to Delilah near the beginning of the start-of-term feast ) were pinning something up on the noticeboard.

"The girl's dormitories are up there," said Harry, pointing up a staircase to the left. 

"Right, thanks Potter," said Delilah. "Night Nev," Delilah sent Neville a small smile, to which he returned and then turned to Harry. "I have to go decorate," she said with a grin. "See ya." Then she turned and disappeared up the stairs, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. She was rubbing her ear yet again and she seemed to quicken her pace. The door slammed very loudly, making certain people jump up in surprise. 

"Hm," was all Neville said, though Harry knew that he had his own thoughts on the new girl.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

ello, peoples. i just published this story like an hour ago and a long as hell chapter is now out. ( the one you've just read ). [Theodosia](https://www.quotev.com/Potterhead2402), dedication is still to you lol, and i hoped you liked the first chapter. girl in red just for you boo. tell me what you think in the discussion!

—— bella


	3. I Never Knew That Toads Liked Pink

❛ SMOKING CIGARETTES ON THE ROOF, YOU LOOK SO PRETTY AND I LOVE THE VIEW ❜

—— **WE FELL IN LOVE IN OCTOBER, GIRL IN RED**

[I NEVER KNEW THAT TOADS LIKED PINK](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/72/36/1b/72361b7a0581257872efa394d785ad2b.gif)

DELILAH ENTERED THE COMMON ROOM WITH DESTINY BERNARD, A GIRL SHE SPOKE TO THE NIGHT BEFORE and the two shared equal love for Paul Newman and Stevie Nicks —— Destiny had spoken to her upon seeing the poster that she was pinning up on the wall ( _when Hermione saw she gave the two girls a disapproving look and then went on with unpacking her things_ ). Hermione was near them, and the three girls were complaining about how utterly revolting Professor Umbridge's cardigan was.

"I am, who would want to wear a sweater in that ugly shade of pink?" said Hermione as Destiny departed. Delilah made her way over to Neville, who was beside Ron and Harry. Hermione followed, making her way over to her two friends. "

"Morning, Neville," said Delilah, resting her chin on Neville's shoulder. Hermione was confused. How did she know Neville Longbottom? 

"Morning, Delilah," said Neville, smiling and looking down at the girl. 

"You two . . . know each other?" asked Ron slowly, his red eyebrows raised.

Delilah frowned, picking her head up and rubbing her ear with her hand and then wiping her hand on her skirt. "It's not good to pry into other people's business, mate," said Delilah. She leaned into Ron, as if she were telling him a secret. "Comes off as a bit rude." Then she retracted, a smirk on her face. She leaned against the wall as Ron, Harry, and Hermione made their way across the common room. "How're your parents, Nev?"

Neville smiled meekly at Delilah. "Same as always . . . visited them a few times during the holidays. Gran said that your mum's doing better!" added Neville brightly.

Delilah nudged Neville as they walked towards the portrait door. "Don't let it bring you down, Nev."

Neville grinned. 

They caught up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and fell into step beside the three.

_Aussie's weird . . . ._ Weasley thought, side-eyeing Delilah, who glared at him upon hearing his thoughts ring throughout her head. Delilah reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes and then took her lighter out of the pocket of her skirt. 

Neville sighed loudly upon seeing the cigarette between her lips.

"Smoking causes diseases," said Hermione, her lips pursed. 

"So does being a know-it-all," retorted Delilah, and Ron snickered and grinned. Hermione shook her head, though she couldn't keep the small smile from building on her face. 

"Anyways, what's up, Harry?" Hermione said as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. "You look really angry about something."

"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond. 

Hermione, whom Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed. 

"Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said gloomily. 

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry said loudly.

"No," said Hermione calmly. "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down Ron's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."

There was a short pause.

"Sorry," said Harry in a low voice.

"That's quite alright," said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the end-of-term feast last year?"

Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly, and Delilah looked over at the three, then noticed that Neville had gone. Hermione sighed again. 

"About You-Know-Who. He said, ' _His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust_ ——"

"How do you remember stuff like that?" asked Ron, looking at her in admiration.

"Alright, cut the questions," snapped Delilah, stopping mid-walk. "You-Know-Who, as in Voldy?"

"Voldy —— oh, Voldemort," said Harry. Ron winced.

"He's back, isn't he?" said Delilah casually, leaning against the nearby stone wall and fiddling with the cigarette in her fingers. 

"Voldemort? Yeah, he's back," said Harry.

"My dad was telling me that Cedric Diggory died or something at Hogwarts, and that the _Prophet_ was writing a ton of bullshit about how you were lying," said Delilah, flickering her lighter.

"Are you actually going to smoke that?" asked Ron, looking at the cigarette.

Delilah lifted it up, examining it. "Yep."

"That's actually seriously bad for you," said Ron.

Delilah shrugged, pocketing the cigarette and lighter. "I know. That's the fun part. You never know when you can drop dead," she said. "Life's better in the moment," she said with a final wink towards them, began to walk down the stairs at a slightly quicker pace than the trio.

"Bloody hell," muttered Ron.

"I am seriously concerned for her mental health," said Hermione seriously, sighing deeply. 

"Nah," said Harry. "She's an Aussie. They're all naturally crazy."

Ron snorted and then turned his head slightly —— at an almost painful angle —— to spare a glance at Hermione. "Right, so how _do_ you remember stuff like that?"

"I listen, Ron," said Hermione with a touch of asperity.

"So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what ——"

"The point," Hermione pressed on loudly, "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months, and we've started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same —— stand together, be united——"

"And Harry said it last night," retorted Ron, "if that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance."

"Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of House unity," said Hermione crossly.

They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. The line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the entrance hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers. 

"Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that," said Harry sarcastically.

They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud gray.

"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubby-Plank woman's staying." he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table. 

"Maybe . . ." said Hermione thoughtfully.

"What?" said both Harry and Ron together.

"Well . . . maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here."

"What d'you mean, draw attention to it?" said Ron, half laughing. "How could we not notice?"

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long, braided hair marched up to Harry.

"Hi, Angelina."

"Hi," she said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Nice one," said Harry, grinning at her; he suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement. 

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now that Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in."

"Okay," said Harry, and she smiled at him and departed.

"I'd forgotten Wood had left," said Hermione vaguely, sitting down beside Ron and pulling a plate of toast towards her. "I suppose that will make a difference to the team?"

"I s'pose," said Harry, taking the bench opposite. "He was a good Keeper . . ."

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" said Ron.

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. The descended all over the Hall, bringing lettings and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Harry was hardly surprised; his only correspondent was Sirius, and he doubted Sirius would have anything new to tell him after only 24 hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn own bearing a sodden _Daily Prophet_.

"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus, as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. "I'm not bothering . . . load of rubbish."

Delilah snorted; she was squeezed on the bench by a burly seventh year, making it so she was beside Harry. " _You're_ only saying that because they're talking shit about you."

Ron snickered. 

"She's got a point, Harry," said Hermione to Harry, who was glaring at Delilah, who was nonplussed and didn't even care what he thought. She said the truth. "Besides, it's best to know what the enemy are saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it. 

Harry was still glaring at Delilah, who was smirking as she swirled around the contents of a silver goblet.

"What're you drinking?" asked Ron curiously from where he was thickly buttering a piece of toast across the table, next to a reading Hermione.

Delilah raised her brow, looking into her cup. "Wanna sip?"

Ron narrowed his eyes but took it, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the drink in the goblet.

He shook out his head afterwards, a grin taking over his face.

"Firewhiskey, eh?" said Ron, his red eyebrows raised at Delilah who was bringing a goblet to her side and pulling out a . . . silver flask? 

"Sometimes firewhiskey, sometimes vodka," said Delilah with a shrug.

"Why?" asked Harry, his arms crossed over his chest.

Delilah turned to him, sipping elegantly out of a goblet of what certainly smelled like firewhiskey. "Vodka's great. When I went to Koldovstoretz, they had the best vodka ever."

"Koldovsteruz?" said Ron, his eyebrows screwed together.

"Right. Forgot that you're a brit," said Delilah with an eye roll. "Koldovstoretz. It's in Russia."

"You went to a school in _Russia_?" said Ron, his brown eyes wide, his jaw wide open, and his voice laced with awe.

"Yeah," said Delilah with a shrug.

"How many schools _have_ you gone to?" asked Harry, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, quite a few," said Delilah, taking out her hand to list the schools on. "Ilvermorny —— I got expelled because I decided to dye my headmaster's hair red. He had just gone through a divorce with a redhead woman and had enough of my bullshit. Then I went to Castelobruxo, in Brazil. Lovely school, let me tell you —— I got expelled because I took armadillo bile from the personal Potions shop of my teacher. Mahoutokoro was next —— long name, right? It's in Japan. I got expelled because of some prank I pulled —— they're way too uptight there. That's when I went to Koldovstoretz —— I got expelled for drinking on the roof in the middle of the night with my friends, who didn't get expelled. They said that I bewitched them, the little shits. I went to Uagadou next —— I was there for only five months when they expelled me for having sex on the roof. Then, I went to Snakebinder Academy in Australia —— I got expelled as well, because I had a sleepover with almost all of my year on the roof and we stayed up blasting music on a stereo —— do you know what that is? —— until somebody ratted _me_ out."

Ron looked amazed. "Brilliant!" he said, grinning.

"Why the hell did you have a sleepover on a _roof_?" said Harry, though he thought it was all very interesting.

"I don't know," said Delilah. "I like doing things on roofs. I've danced on roofs, drank on roofs, slept on roofs, had sex on roofs, had sleep——"

"You had _sex_ on the roof?" Ron repeated, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide. 

"Yes," said Delilah, looking over her goblet to Ron.

"So you're not a virgin," he concluded.

"No," said Delilah, her face saying, " _You thought I_ was _a virgin?_ "

"Brilliant!" said Ron, pumping a fist in the air. "Nobody I know _isn't_ a virgin. I suppose Hogwarts is full of goody-two-shoes."

Delilah sighed, shaking her head, and rubbed her ear. She could hear everyone else's thoughts circling around her head, cramming up inside, and screaming. Blood trickled out of nose as she squeezed her eyes shut, reaching over the table to grab a napkin and wiping it.

_SHE'S AWESOME!!_

_Oh my god can Ron just please shut up? I'm trying to read! And it's not even that cool!_

_Expelled from 6 schools? Fred and George, watch out._

_THIS FRENCH TOAST IS SOOOOO GOOD!!_

_WE HAVE THAT PINK LADY TODAY! DAMN IT! AND BINNS!_

_Wonder what Dean's doing . . ._

_I hope Snape's nice today . . ._

_Maybe the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher isn't that bad! Actually, I doubt that. Look at her fashion sense._

_SEX ON THE ROOF! NOT A VIRGIN! BLOODY HELL, SHE'S BRILLIANT! WAIT, WHAT THE HECK?! BLOODY HELL!!! WE HAVE BINNS, SNAPE, TRELAWNEY, AND THAT UMBRIDGE ALL IN ONE DAY?!?!?!?!_

When Delilah got back a sense of reality, the tissue she was holding on her nose was drenched with scarlet blood. She took another two, just in time to see Professor Mcgonagall looking down at her, concern in eyes.

_Are you alright? Are the thoughts too much?_

Delilah nodded, and then shook her head, answering each question.

Professor Mcgonagall pursed her lips, though took the answer and walked off. 

"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted . . . ."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing onto the bench beside Delilah, pressing her against Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," said Fred, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously. 

"Because you'll keep bleeding until you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," said George, helping himself to a kipper.

Delilah frowned, sneakily pouring more firewhiskey into her goblet and purposefully staying quiet.

"Cheers," said Ron moodily, pocketing his schedule, "but I think I'll take the lessons."

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor notice board."

"Says who?" said George, his jaw wide open, astonished.

"Says me," said Hermione, her lips pursed and her brown eyes narrowed. "And Ron."

"Leave me out of it," said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" said Hermione, trying hard to suppress a scoff.

"Fifth year's O.W.L. year," said George, shrugging his shoulders.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to O.W.L.s," said George happily. "Tears and tantrums . . . Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint . . . ."

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Fred reminiscently.

"That's 'cause you but Bulbadox Powder in his pajamas," said George, grinning at the memory.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, grinning from ear to ear. "I'd forgotten . . . . Hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George "If you care about exam results anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow."

"Yeah . . . you got, what was it, three O.W.L.s each?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised. 

"Yep," said Fred unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said George brightly, "now that we've got——"

He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew that George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them. Delilah wasn't leaning into Harry, anymore, she was just rubbing behind her ear as her bloody nose had resided.

"——now that we've got our O.W.L.s," George said hastily. "I mean, do we really need N.E.W.T.s? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," said Fred, looking affectionately around the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results, and then produce the product to fit the demand."

"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" asked Hermione skeptically. "You're going to need all of the ingredients and materials —— and then premises too, I suppose . . . ."

Harry did not look at the twins. His face felt hot; he deliberately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it. He heard Fred say overhead, "Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology.

Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast. Delilah looked at him with an amused expression, her eyebrows raised and a knowing smirk on her face. 

"You have something to do with that, hm? You gave them the Galleons you got from the Triwizard tournament?" said Delilah quietly out of the side of her mouth. 

"Wha—" said Harry, though before he could ask anything Hermione spoke.

"What did that mean?" said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron, to Delilah, who was still smirking. "'Ask us no questions . . .' Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?"

"You know, I've been wondering about that," said Ron, his brow furrowed. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer, and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons . . . ."

Delilah saw Harry's nervous expression and decided to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters.

"D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?" 

"Oh yeah," said Ron with a nod. "Bound to be, isn't it? O.W.L.s are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what N.E.W.T.s you want to do next year."

"Want to walk with us to class?" Hermione asked Delilah, who shrugged. 

"Sure," she said and the latter stood.

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked the the other three, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterward and set off toward their History of Magic classroom.

"Not really," said Ron slowly. "Except . . . well . . ."

He looked slightly sheepish.

"What?" Harry urged him, earning an eye roll from Delilah.

"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror," said Ron in an offhand voice. 

"Yeah, it would," said Harry fervently.

"But they're, like, the elite," said Ron. "You've got to be really good. What about you, Miss Australia?"

"Miss Australia?" repeated Hermione with a hint of shock. "She has _a name!"_

Ron, however, ignored her.

Delilah shrugged. "I suppose I could be a Healer . . . my mum was a Healer . . . my dad was apart of some Order thing when he lived in Britain when he was younger. The Order of the Phoenix, or some shit. Fighting against that noseless whore." Ron snorted, though Harry and Hermione were shocked.

"Your dad was in the . . ." said Hermione, lowering her voice, " _Order of the Phoenix_?"

"Yes," said Delilah with an eye roll. "He was in the _Order of the Phoenix_."

Hermione did not seem to appreciate her mocking.

"My dad's still in Australia, though," Delilah continued.

"So you're staying with your mum, then?" said Ron.

"Nope," said Delilah.

"Then where are you staying?" asked Hermione, her eyebrows raised.

"I'm staying at the Beckett Estate," said Delilah. "Dad used to live there, but he moved to Aussie to live with my gran . . . she died a few years back, the old hag was a nuisance, let me tell you. She always stole my ice pops."

"You're staying in a house on your own?" said Hermione, her voice high and shrill, as if she highly disapproved. 

"Estate," corrected Delilah. "Cleaned a bit . . . it's in a foul state, let me tell you. Kipper's been helping clean, though. Old house elf, the most salty little shit I've ever met," said Delilah. They were approaching the History of Magic classroom. Delilah grinned, stopping in her tracks.

"What are you doing?" said Ron, as the three turned to face her.

"Gonna skive this one," said Delilah with an easy smirk. "See you, mate." She gave them a final, signature wink, and then waltzed off in the other direction. 

Harry didn't blame her.

History of Magic by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by Wizard-kind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in the subject only by copying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binn's voice.

Today they suffered three-quarters of an hour's droning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and he spent the remaining thirty-five minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment in Ron, while Hermione shot them filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.

"How would it be," she asked them coldly as they left the classroom for break ( _Binns drifting away through the blackboard_ ), "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?"

"We'd fail our O.W.L.s," said Ron with a slight smirk. "If you want that on your conscience, Hermione . . ."

"Well, you'd deserve it," she snapped. "You don't even try to listen to him, do you?"

"We do try," said Ron, rolling his eyes in annoyance, "We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration —— you're just cleverer than we are —— is it nice to rub it in?"

"Oh, don't give me that rubbish," said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she led the way out into the damp courtyard. 

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Ron, and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

Delilah stood, cigarette lodged between her lips, wisps of smoke unfurling out of the tip, her robe draped on a nearby stone, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, two buttons of her shirt undone, and her tie naturally loose.

Ron was about to open his mouth, when she cut him off. 

"No, I didn't snog anyone," said Delilah, puffing out smoke. Hermione's nose scrunched up. 

"You're _actually_ smoking that?" said Hermione shrilly.

"Yes," said Delilah with an eye roll as she pulled the cigarette away from her lips and tilted her chin up, exhaling into the frigid air. "How was History of Magic?" she asked casually, drawing in another breath. 

"Boring as ever," said Ron, frowning and leaning against the rail that surrounded the balcony. 

"Only because you don't listen," snapped Hermione.

"I _try_!" said Ron.

Delilah shared an amused look with Harry, who was so used to these two bickering.

"Hello, Harry!"

Delilah turned to where the sound came from. An girl with long, black hair tied in a plait, was smiling brightly at Harry. 

"Hi," said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. _At least you're not covered in Stinksap this time,_ he told himself. Cho was thinking along the same lines. 

"You got that stuff off, then?"

"Yeah," said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. Delilah snorted, drawing in another breath of smoke. "So did you . . . er . . . have a good summer?"

The moment he said this he wished he hadn't: Cedric had been Cho's boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected Harry's . . . . Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, "Oh, it was all right, you know . . . ."

_WHY WOULD HE ASK THAT?!?! CEDRIC DIED, THE IDIOT! But I can't take it out on him, he was just trying to make conversation. And he's a nice boy, and I fancy him, so I have to be kind. Have to be nice._

 _"_ Gee, calm down, Cho," muttered Delilah, a grin on her face.

"Is that a Tornados badge?" Ron demanded suddenly, pointing at the front of Cho's robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. "You don't support them, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," said Cho with a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Ron, in what was considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.

"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway . . ." Her eyes narrowed when they stopped on Delilah, who was smirking as she finished her cigarette. 

_Is that Harry's girlfriend? I thought Harry fancied me! That's not fair! Cedric's dead and the boy I like has a girlfriend!! It's that new girl! The Aussie! URGH!_

"See you, Harry," she said through sort of gritted teeth.

Delilah smirked, dropping her cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the heel of her boot. "Not his girlfriend," said Delilah, looking pointedly at Cho, who flushed red. "Don't need to be so jealous, mate. Makes you seem _needy_."

"Wha—I didn't—I—don't—just . . bye," she walked away.

Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron.

"You are so tactless!"

"What? I only asked her if—"

"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?"

"So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping—"

"What on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team for?"

"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only—"

"Who _cares_ if she supports the Tornados?"

"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season—"

"But does it _matter_?"

"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon—"

"That's the bell," said Harry listless ( _Delilah heaved a loud sigh began walking_ ) because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape's dungeons, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes' conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

And yet, he thought, as they joined the queue lining up outside Snape's classroom door, she had chosen to come and talk to him, hadn't she? She had been Cedric's girlfriend; she could easily have hated Harry for coming out of the Triwizard maze alive when Cedric had died, yet she was talking to him in a perfectly friendly way, not as though she thought him mad, or a liar, or in some horrible way responsible for Cedric's death . . . .Yes, she had definitely chosen to come and talk to him, and that had made the second time in two days . . . and at this thought, Harry's spirits rose. Even the ominous sound of Snape's dungeon door creaking open did not puncture the small, hopeful bubble that seemed to have swelled in his chest. He filed into the classroom behind Ron and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, ignoring the huffy, irritable noises now issuing from both of them.

Delilah had taken a seat next to Destiny Bernard, her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes narrowed at Snape, who seemed to be looking into her soul.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," she said with a sneer towards the Professor. 

"I did not say anything, Ms. Beckett," said Snape with a cruel sneer.

"You didn't _have_ to, _sir_ ," she said annoyedly. 

"Settle down," Snape said coldly, now shutting the door behind him. 

There was no real need to call the order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it is appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my . . . displeasure."

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lips curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

"Is that really bad, though?" said Delilah, her eyebrows raised. "I, personally, would just fail the exam to not have to be in this class."

"Quiet, Ms. Beckett," snapped Snape.

Delilah scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.

Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to play close attention to what you are doing." On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression on of the utmost attentiveness. "The ingredients and the method" —— Snape flicked his wand —— "are on the blackboard" —— ( _they appeared there_ ) —— "you will find everything you need" —— he flicked his wand again —— "in the store cupboard" —— ( _the door of the said cupboard sprang open_ ) —— "you have an hour and a half . . . . Start."

Just as Harry, ROn, and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

Delilah had finished her potion even before Hermione, and was now sitting with her elbows rested on the table, her chin rested in her palm.

"A light silver vapor should be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looking desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. The surface of Delilah's potion was a bright, shimmering mist of silver vapor, that she looked at boredly. The surface of Hermione's potion, however as well, was the same shimmering mist of silver vapor, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which mean that he could find nothing to criticize. At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco Malfoy laughed.

"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multicolored steam now filling the dungeon.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."

His heart sank. He had not added the syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

Delilah, who was sitting nearby on a stool watching the exchange, felt a mix of amusement a sympathy for the bespectacled boy. 

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore . . . ."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco._ "

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

"Those of you who _have_ managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to handed on Thursday."

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething. His potion had been no worse than Ron's, which was giving off a foul odor of bad eggs, or Neville's, which had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having to gouge out of his cauldron, yet it was he, Harry, who would be receiving zero marks for the day's work. He stuffed his wand back into his bag and slumped down onto his seat, watching everyone else march up to Snape's desk with filled corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, Harry was first out of the dungeon and had already started his lunch by the time Ron and Hermione joined him in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier gray during the day. Rain was lashing the high windows.

"That was really unfair," said Delilah simply as she slid into the seat opposite to Harry, Destiny Bernard sitting beside her. 

"She's right," said Hermione consolingly. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape every been fair to me?"

Neither of the others answered as Delilah poured the contents of a flask into her goblets and clinked cups with Destiny, who was smirking. The two downed their drinks and then stood, bidding goodbye to the trio and moving down the table to where Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas were sitting. 

After lunch was Divination with the 'loony' Professor Trelawney. She gave them a dream diary.

"D'you realize how much homework we've got already?" Ron was complaining loudly as Delilah exited the North Tower. Delilah sidled up beside the three people. "Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars—" ( _"Ouch," said Delilah_ ) — "—Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney~ Fred and George weren't wrong about O.W.L. year, were they?"

"Chill out, Wheezy," said Delilah in a somewhat mocking tone, nudging him with her shoulder. "Just hope that that Umbridge woman doesn't give us any."

"That Umbridge woman had better _not_ give us any . . . ." said Ron.

When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom ( _Delilah walked off and plopped down in a random chair on the Slytherin side of the room_ ) they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet boy on the top of her head. 

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity, and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian like her was likely to be. 

Draco Malfoy sat on the left of Delilah, an annoying smirk on his face. 

"Well, good afternoon!" said Professor Umbridge when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.

"Tut, tut," said Umbridge. " _That_ won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Oh, she's one of _those_ teachers," mumbled Delilah, earning a snort from Malfoy.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class chanted back at her.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it?" Wants away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her back, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

𝓓𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓐𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓼

𝓐 𝓡𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓼

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far behind the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again' the first message vanished and was replaced by:

𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓲𝓶𝓼:

_1._ 𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓵𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬.

_2._ 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝓮 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭.

_3._ 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓲𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓾𝓼𝓮.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. Delilah, however, had pulled out her wand and tapped her paper, making the words appear on the yellowish parchment, and did the same to Malfoy's because he threatened to snitch. WHen everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims, she said, "Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang throughout the room.

"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad eyes. 

Delilah read the first chapter within a matter of minutes, then closed it, slumping down in her chair and frowning at the book.

"What the fuck did I just read?" she whispered, her upturned button nose scrunched up in disgust. 

Malfoy, who had already finished reading, leaned back in his chair coolly. 

"That was the most dull thing I've ever read," said Malfoy with a sneer in the direction of the book.

"Yes it was, mate, yes it was," said Delilah, putting her hand in the air. "Miss Umbridge?" she called out.

Professor Umbridge turned to her, a simpering smile on her face. "It's _Professor_ Umbridge to you, dear."

"Do you have a doctorate degree?" said Delilah, a mischevious grin on her face.

Hermione gasped.

"No," said Professor Umbridge, straightening her back.

"Then I see no reason to call you Professor, Miss Umbridge," said Delilah. 

"10 points from Gryffindor, for your pure insolence."

Delilah rolled her eyes.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" asked Umbridge.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Delilah impatiently.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing all of her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at th end of class."

"I've got a _query_ about your course aims," said Delilah.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is——?"

"Delilah Beckett," said Delilah with an eye roll and a frown.

"Well, Miss Beckett, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read through them carefully," said Professor Umbridge with determined sweetness. 

"Well, I don't," said Delilah bluntly with a shrug of her shoulders. "There's nothing writted up there about _using_ defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

" _Using_ defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Beckett. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during my class?"

Delilah snorted. "I don't know who you are. You could be apart of the mafia and have trained toads with laser eyes hidden behind that wretched pink cardigan."

Most of the class snickered, but quieted when they saw the unamused, deadly smile on Umbridge's face.

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr—?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, still smiling more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss—?"

"Granger," said Hermione.

"Miss Granger? You have a question?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" said Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but—"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—"

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a—"

" _Hand_ , Mr. Potter!" sang Umbridge. 

Harry thrust his fist into the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him again, but now several other people had their hands up too.

"And your name is?" Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean, his eyes flickering over to Harry who was seething. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free—"

"I repeat," said Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but—"

Professor Umbridge talked over him.

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed —— not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily, "he was the best we ever—"

_"_ _Hand_ , Mr. Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spell that have been complex, inappropriate to your agr group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—"

"No, we haven't," Hermione said, "we just—"

" _Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!_ "

Hermione put her hand up; Umbridge turned away from her.

"It is my understanding that the predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them _on_ you—"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads—"

" _Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!_ " trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during out exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again. 

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

Delilah was waving her hand in the air. 

"Yes, Miss Beckett?"

"Ms. Umbridge," she said, propping her feet up the desk and smiling in a way that mocked Umbridge, "school is supposed to prepare you _for_ the real world? For what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Ms. Beckett," said Umbridge. "Theory should do you well when you graduate from Hogwarts——"

"I'm sorry," said Delilah, crossing her arms over her chest. Umbridge did not tell her off. "You're telling me . . . that you expect us . . . oh, I don't know . . . to win a duel with theory?" Delilah let out a derisive laugh. "Yes, yes, miss, I'm going to be face to face with a psychotic murderer and think of the bullshit that you teach us this year? You _think_ that I'm going to be eye to eye with a Death Eater and rack my brain for the theory that I learned in fifth year? No, actually, Ms. Umbridge, as shocking as it is, I'm not —— and I doubt anyone in this class is —— going to be thinking what the Ministry decided was good for students to learn during their O.W.L. year. I'd probably die because I didn't _learn_ anything worthwhile in this wretched class."

"Watch your mouth, Miss. Beckett," snapped Umbridge. "I know about your . . . history with other schools and I beg of you to keep your mouth—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" said Delilah hotly, throwing her hands in the air. 

"Language, Ms. Beckett!" trilled Umbridge. "Cornelius —— oh, silly me, the Minister ——"

"The Minister only put you on this job," said Delilah angrily, her voice rising as she sat straighter, glaring at Umbridge, "because he knows that you'll do anything for a little fuck."

"Excuse me?" said Umbridge shrilly.

Delilah stood, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I _said_ , that _Cornelius Fudge_ only put you in on this job because he knows that you'll follow his every fucking command as long as you get thrown in his bed at the end of the week and fucked silly."

The room was full of dead silence and shocked students.

"Detention, Ms. Beckett!" said Umbridge, her face red. "Tomorrow evening, six o'clock."

"That's all you can do?" said Delilah with an amused smirk. 

"You used crude language, Ms. Beckett."

"I do believe that I did," said Delilah, plopping back down in her chair.

"Now, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge, turning her head sharply to face Harry. "As I was saying, there is nothing waiting out there."

"Oh yeah," said Harry, his temper rising to a boiling point.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horrible, honey voice.

"Hmm, let's think . . ." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, "maybe _Lord Voldemort?_ "

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool; Delilah grinned and clapped mockingly. Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her toad face.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now let me make things quite plain."

Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead—"

"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned."

"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself!" said Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. _This is a lie_."

"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry angrily, his bright green eyes shining angrily. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, _this is a lie_."

Delilah stood, swung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door.

"Now where do you think you are going, Miss Beckett?" said Umbridge, her voice shrill and it was evident she was suppressing rage.

Delilah smirked, turned on her heel to face her, clasped her hands together and cocked her head to the side. " _This is bullshit_ ," she said in a great mocking of the Professor, earning appreciative grins from Ron and Hermione ( _Harry was still seething_ ) and then exited the classroom.

As she walked down the hallway, she heard a yell of, "So according to you Cedric Diggory dropped dead on his own accord?!"

 _What an_ amazing _first day at Hogwarts._

## 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

what an immensely long chapter. my arm feels broken, if you didn't know. like it hurts really bad. appreciate the lyrics, [Theodosia](https://www.quotev.com/Potterhead2402), they were just for you <3\. hope you liked the chapter! tell me what you think in the discussion.


	4. Young Azula Potter, Unfortunately Related To The Awkward Worm With Glasses

❛ FATE WANTS THE ENERGETIC CRACKHEADS TO BE FRIENDS ❜

—— **UNKNOWN HUMAN BEING**

[AZULA POTTER, UNFORTUNATELY RELATED TO THE AWKWARD WORM](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/92/dc/1b/92dc1bc84e156c811b615025cbc48bf0.gif)

DELILAH HAD SPENT EVERY EVENING IN PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE'S OFFICE.

She told Harry, who had asked what Umbridge told her to do for detention, that she made her write lines, and then Harry grabbed her hand, though there were no cuts written along it. She used a Concealment Charm to hide the words that were etched into her pale, freckled hand. She hung around Destiny most often —— the two got along great. 

"Okay, Delilah, what's your favorite color?" Destiny asked. They were sitting on Delilah's four-poster bed with the red curtains pulled around it. 

"Uhm . . . probably blue . ." said Delilah, resting her head in her palm. "But not, like, a bright blue, or a sky blue. The color of the sky when it hasn't gone fully black."

"Hm," Destiny hummed, nodding. "My favorite color's teal. Quite simple compared to your answer."

Delilah let out a sniff of laughter. 

"I'm so bloody tired!" Delilah groaned, throwing her head back. 

"Why don't you go to sleep?" said Destiny with a scoff.

"That's an idea!" Delilah said, throwing a hand up in the air.

"Great, because I'm tired, too, and I don't want to fall asleep in Umbridge's class tomorrow . . . don't want to cross the pink toad —— she's slightly terrifying. I mean, what if she _sits_ on you?"

Delilah snorted. 

"You need to sleep, Dez, go to sleep," she said, leading Destiny over to her bed. 

"Night, Delilah," Destiny said as she curled up underneath her covers. 

"Night," said Delilah as she drew the curtains around Destiny's bed. Then, walking back over to her own and slipping underneath the fuzzy black blanket that she replaced for the red blanket, she lazily —— and half-heartedly —— closed the curtains around her bed.

The next morning, Destiny made sure to wake Delilah up. She screamed in her ear for five minutes, before she asked Hermione if she could use a charm to spray water in her face. 

" _Aguamenti_ ," said Hermione, looking pleased that she was the one asked to use a charm that she had practiced on for hours, even though she had mastered it within twenty minutes.

Water sprayed out of the tip of Hermione's wand and into Delilah's face.

Delilah shot up, rubbing her eyes. 

"Who the _fuck_ sprayed water _in my face_?!" she shrieked, pulling the hairs that stuck to her face off of it. "Granger!" Hermione gave a little yelp and dashed out of their dorm, seemingly terrified by the blatant rage on Delilah's face. "What time is it?"

"Breakfast," said Destiny.

"You go on down," said Delilah, standing up from bed and walking into the bathroom. "I'll meet you in . . ." Delilah glanced over at the schedule on her dresser. "Potions."

"Okay then," said Destiny, her eyes narrowed. "And don't even _think_ about skipping. Snape will take every last living point off of Gryffindor just because _one_ person skipped his wretched class!"

"I'm not going to skip!" Delilah called from inside her bathroom, brushing her teeth. 

"Fine! See you at Potions!" Delilah heard the slam of a door and it was certain that Destiny had left. Delilah washed her face in attempt to wake herself up, and then dried it with a towel, her mood worse then when Hermione sprayed water on her face. She exited her bathroom, muttering insults to Hermione and curses under her breath, moved over to her trunk and pulled out a white button-up shirt, a black pleated skirt, socks, grabbed a pair of Converse that rested beside the trunk, and then tossed everything onto her bed, beginning to strip. 

Once completely dressed —— her shirt was buttoned up rather lazily, two of the buttons undone because she couldn't bother to finish it, the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, her tie was draped around the collar of her shirt, her skirt was on normally, as always, though she rolled it up once on the waist so it didn't reach her knees, her robes were stuffed into her bag that was slung on her shoulder, and her Converse laces were tied tightly —— she grabbed two of the books she needed from her dresser and then walked out of her dorm rather casually, considering she was about to be late for Potions with Professor Snape. 

The common room was mostly deserted —— apart from sixth and seventh years who had free periods —— and the hallways were no different **_(_** Delilah was certain that everybody had already gone to their classes, or were outside **_)_**. 

Then, she hit something —— well, someone.

"Ouch!" the someone —— it was a girl —— hissed, while Delilah let out a string of curse words. 

"The day I actually decide to carry books, I fucking drop them!" Delilah said in frustration. "Fuck books! Fuck the fucking world!" Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she looked at the someone —— the girl —— that she bumped into. She had red hair and beautiful hazel eyes, that seemed to have green around the the edges. "Apologies," said Delilah moodily.

"Having a bad morning?" the girl said, sighing.

"Obviously," Delilah said with a scoff. "First, Hermione fucking Granger sprays water on me with some fancy shmancy spell that she learned, then my books get knocked over —— well, that's not actually that bad."

The girl grinned and laughed. "I'm Azula Potter," she said.

Delilah's brow furrowed. "Azula Potter?" Then she snorted with a smirk. " _Young Azula Potter, unfortunately related to the awkward worm with glasses_ ," she said in a posh tone. Azula burst into a fit of giggles. "I'm Delilah Beckett. Nice to meet you, mate."

"Oh!" said Azula, nodding with recognition. "You're the Aussie girl!"

Delilah pursed her lips. "As much as I love to be known as the _Aussie girl_ , I kind of like my first name a slight bit better."

Azula grinned. "You're funny."

"Gee, thanks," said Delilah. Then, her eyes strayed to a clock that was on the wall. "Oh, fuck! Snape is going to murder me!"

Azula snorted. "Better get to class, _Professor_ ," she said in a mocking sort of tone, "Snape is ruthless."

" _Mr._ Snape is ruthless," Delilah corrected, brushing her blonde hair off of her shoulder. "He doesn't have a doctorate degree, either, neither does _Ms_. Umbridge."

"I like you," said Azula. "And how to do you know my _awkward worm_ brother?" 

Delilah shrugged. "Weasley, Granger, and the awkward worm with glasses have walked with me a few times."

_Oh my god! I'm so setting them up! And Nova is GOING TO HELP ME! SHE'S GOING TO HELP ME! MARK MY WORDS!_

Delilah tried not to cringe as the thoughts of young Azula Potter filled her head. 

"Is Harry a gentleman, or what?" Azula said slyly, her eyebrows raised and her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"No," said Delilah. "He's just awkward. Can't walk right, if you know what I mean."

_Wait. Ginny. WHAT WILL GINNY SAY?! OH NO! MUST ELIMINATE DELILAH SO GINNY HAS A CHANCE!_

"Yeah, I entirely agree," said Azula. "Hey, do you know Ginny Weasley?"

"Uhm . . . not directly, no. I mean, I've seen her. Red hair, freckles, dating Michael Corner, the girl who snogged a Hufflepuff last week behind some statue, he was blonde, maybe it was a Ravenclaw, or a Slytherin, I don't know, uhm——"

"Sorry, what?" Azula repeated, her voice high and her eyes wide. "Blonde? Slytherin?"

Delilah's lips curved up into a smirk. "Do you _know_ any blonde Slytherins?"

"Uhm, yes, a few——"

"Or, possibly, the most well-known blonde Slytherin, Draco Malfoy?" Delilah said, grinning as Azula's cheeks flushed red.

"Well—I—sort of—it's—it's complicated," Azula said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Ah, the usual excuse: it's complicated. It's never complicated, Azula, we make it like that. If you just stop for a second and think that what you really want, it won't be complicated. Screw everyone around you, screw the consequences. Be happy."

"We're—we're sort of . . . . uh . . . dating," Azula said, her voice choked. "B—but if he's s—snogging Ginny, then . . . well, I suppose it's——"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down," Delilah said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Ginny —— or whoever —— probably didn't snog —— gosh, that word is so weird —— snog your man, and if she did, I would gladly help you kill her. Plus, there are a lot of blonde Slytherins, I'm sure. Though I'd still help you kill her. We could use matches."

Azula laughed. "You're, like, Australian me."

Delilah scoffed. "I'd like to not be compared to a redhead girl who's younger than me and related to the most awkward human being on earth," she said jokingly, making Azula snort.

"I'm also dating the hottest man on earth," said Azula cockily with a dramatic flick of her hair. 

"I'll have to apologize, Az, because Draco Malfoy definitely isn't the hottest man on earth. That's reserved for Leonardo Dicaprio."

"Oh my god, yes! Leonardo Dicaprio tops Draco Malfoy any day! Like, his hair——"

"And his muscles!" 

"Finally somebody appreciates my love for Leo!" Azula said, throwing her hands up in the air. 

"Wanna skip?" Delilah asked, raising her eyebrows and leaning against the nearest stone wall.

"Yes, actually. I don't think I can stand thinking —— I already have drama to deal with," Azula replied, and the two began walking. 

They spent up until lunch outside of the castle. Azula took Delilah down to the kitchens where they stocked up on candy and a large bottle of butterbeer (for Azula, though she was rather iffy about drinking it) while Delilah grabbed three bottles of firewhiskey and hid them in her robes, and then they sat in a secluded corner by the Black Lake, their feet in the water, laughing about nothing in particular.

"A—and Harry just goes, BOO! And I scream and——" Azula's sentence is lost because both girls burst into a fit of giggles, holding their stomachs. 

"We need —— to —— s—stop —— laughing!" Azula choked out, panting. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Delilah said, standing up suddenly. "I want to go swimming."

"How about later?" Azula said with her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, fine!" Delilah pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm hungry."

"What?" Azula said, evidently not hearing her. 

"I'm! HUNGRY!" Delilah screamed loudly, making Azula cover her ears and burst into a fit of giggles. 

They were possibly . . . maybe . . . perhaps . . . slightly, just slightly, drunk.

"Teddy bear eats leaves and we eat leaves because we are TEDDY BEARS!" Azula screamed, waving her arms wildly in the air, as though she were swaying to music. 

Okay, they were really drunk.

"I—it's about — lunch!" Azula said, swigging butterbeer. 

"Is it?" said Delilah, throwing her arms up in the air randomly, tilting her head back and basking in the sunlight. "Well, let's go!"

"We're the hungry pioneers!" Azula sang, bobbing her head to each side. "We're the hungry pioneers!"

"Hungry pioneers?" Delilah said, and then burst out laughing. "The hungry pioneers?"

"Yes, Deli-Del-Del!" Azula cried out, finishing her bottle of butterbeer. "God, this stuff is so good! I don't know why stopped drinking it!"

"I don't know why you did either!" Delilah said.

"If we get caught, though, we are going to be in serious trouble," Azula slurred. 

"I'm SO HUNGRY!" Delilah shouted loudly, throwing the bottle of firewhiskey to the ground. 

"So am I!" Azula cried, standing to her feet.

"LET THEM EAT CAKE!" Delilah yelled, clinking bottles with Azula, who opened more butterbeer. 

"This is butterbeer!" Azula said loudly, as though she couldn't hear the height of her own voice.

"So what?" Delilah said, tilting her head back and gulping firewhiskey. Azula did the same and pulled it from her lips, letting out a scream of rage . . . well, it sounded more like a battle cry. 

"I SHALL EAT ALL OF THE FOOD IN THE CAFEEEEEEETTEEERIA!"' 

"The Great Hall, Carrot head! Not a cafeteria!" Delilah corrected, linking her arms with Azula, dropping the bottle of firewhiskey after finishing it in one swig. 

"Great Hall, Shmate Hall, Deli-Del-Del!" Azula said and the girls began to ~~walk~~ stumble back into the castle. Delilah was better at looking like she wasn't drunk with her walk, and she helped Azula walk like a normal person, so, if anybody saw them, they wouldn't look like they just drank three bottles of butterbeer and firewhiskey.

"Fine, Azu-Zu-ZuZu!" Delilah sang wildly.

The halls were deserted. 

Delilah suspected, somewhere where her brain was _sober_ , that everybody was at lunch. 

"Delilah," Azula whispered as they entered the entrance hall. 

"Yeah?" Delilah whispered back. 

"Wait, why are we whispering?"

"I don't know," Delilah whispered. "But you started it!"

Azula giggled. "Of course I did!"

"Let's stop whispering."

"OF COURSE!"

"Don't yell either!" Delilah said, though she was giggling like mad. 

"I don't know how to talk like a human being!"

"Remember Leonardo Dicaprio! He only likes human beings!" Delilah said, shaking her vigorously by the shoulders.

"I have a boyfriend!" Azula said with a drunken giggle. 

"Your boyfriend won't care if you pine after a Muggle! Especially a hot Muggle!"

"We could have a threesome!" Azula said, then doubled over in laughter. Delilah put her hands on her knees, laughter bubbling inside her throat. 

"Don't suggest that to your boyfriend!"

"I will!"

"No, don't!"

"He's going to have a seizure!"

"Tell him!"

"BAHA!" 

The two girls, still laughing like lunatics, entered the Great Hall.

"He's a good snogger!" Azula said loudly, not even meaning it to be loud.

"I wouldn't know!"

"If you did, I'd kill you myself!"

"I doubt it, ZuZu-Az!" Delilah giggled.

Harry Potter, sitting at the Gryffindor table, looked up at the sound of his younger sister's voice. 

"What the—?" Harry stood to get a better look, seeing Azula with Delilah Beckett, giggling about something wildly. 

Neville rushed out of his seat upon seeing Delilah, along with Destiny.

"Delilah Beckett!" Destiny shouted at her friend, who she was supposed to meet up with at Potions.

"Ooooooh, Dez!" Delilah said, poking Destiny on the nose. 

"What—?"

Azula burst out laughing, her red hair covering her face as she doubled over.

"What's going on?" Draco Malfoy asked, eyeing Azula with his brow furrowed.

"AZULA! IS THIS YOUR BOYFRIEND?!" Delilah screamed. "HE LOOKS LIKE A — A — A FERRET!"

Azula held a hand over her mouth, tears leaking out of her eyes as she laughed harder. "HE'S A FERRET!"

"Is she drunk?" Draco murmured to Harry.

"Can't be," said Harry. "She avoids drinks at all cause."

"If Aussie found a way to get Azula over her fear of alcohol in one day and I've been doing it for three years, I'm seriously going to have to have a conversation with her."

"Leonardo Dicaprio!" Azula slurred. "Leo and Draco! I HAVE TWO BOYFRIENDS!"

"Wait what?" Draco said, his jaw wide open.

"He's having a seizure!" Delilah said gleefully, clapping her hands together.

"What—I'm—I'm so confused!" Draco threw his hands up in the air, just as a blonde girl, who looked not much different from him, came up.

"Azula?" she said. "What's wrong with her?"

A girl with long black hair came up behind her.

"Is she — is she drunk?" the girl with black hair said uncertainly. 

"How'd she get her to drink?" the blonde girl said. 

"I don't know," Draco said. "But she's saying she has another boyfriend."

"That's not what you should be worried about," the girl with black hair said.

"Delilah," Neville said, helping her stand, "come get some water."

"Oh, Neville!" Delilah cried. "I'm HUNGRY!"

"Keep it down," Neville said, his eyes darting over to the High Table where Dolores Umbridge sat with a simpering smile, talking to Professor Dumbledore. 

"Get me food!" Azula demanded, stamping her foot. "Harold! There you are!" She gave Harry and hug, rather suddenly, that almost knocked him off his feet.

"Gosh, she really is drunk," Draco murmured.

"Let's take her to the Gryffindor Common Room," Destiny suggested to Neville, holding her friend upright.

"AZULA!!" Delilah screamed. "MY FELLOW HUNGRY PIONEER!!"

"DELI-DEL-DEL!!" Azula said, shoving Harry and moving over to Delilah. 

"Where's the food?" Delilah said, rubbing her eyes and blinking repeatedly. "I don't wanna eat you!" she said to Ron, who looked shocked and terrified, "I'm not a cannibal!"

"LET US EAT CAKE!" Azula shrieked, stomping her feet like a young, insolent child. 

"Azula, shh," Harry said, grabbing her arm and beginning to drag her out of the Great Hall. Neville and Destiny grabbed hold of Delilah, who was demanding that they get her food, and followed Draco, the blonde girl, and the girl with black hair (who were following Harry and Azula) out of the Great Hall. 

It was hours before Delilah woke up.

She was sitting in front of the warm, crackling fire in the Gryffindor common room, a scarlet blanket wrapped around her. 

Allowing her eyes to roam around the room, she nearly shrieked. 

"Why —— the —— fuck——" she said, her eyes wide. "Hey!" She pointed a finger at Draco, who had his arm wrapped around Azula's shoulder. "You're a Slytherin! This is the _Gryffindor_ common room, you——" Delilah burst into giggles. "——ferret!"

Draco scoffed, then, worriedly, he looked down at the red haired girl, scared that he could've woken her up. 

"Listen here, Aussie," the girl with black hair from earlier said, her tone rather sharp, "What the hell did you do to Azula?"

Delilah straightened up, turning to her, her eyes gleaming angrily.

"Listen here, _Brit_ , call me Aussie and I will personally leap over this fucking coffee table and slit your goddamn throat," Delilah said, her eyes narrowed. 

"Calm down," Hermione, who was sitting in between Ron and Harry, said, looking rather nervous. 

"Eat shit, Granger," Delilah said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back into the couch. "And I didn't do shit to Azula. She just drank butterbeer, and a little bit of firewhiskey."

"That's the problem," the blonde haired girl said. "Oh, and I'm Nova Malfoy."

"I give two fucks," Delilah grumbled under her breath.

Nova continued. "Azula hasn't even touched butterbeer since——" She stopped and winced, and then took a deep breath. "Since she was raped."

Delilah's head snapped towards her. 

Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling up and down harshly.

" _Excuse me?_ " said Delilah harshly.

"Since she was raped," Nova said impatiently. 

"That's not a fucking joke, Blondie." Delilah's fist were clenched tightly as she spoke, the crevices in her palm turning a bright red.

"It's not a joke," Nova sneered, now resembling her older brother more than ever.

Delilah let out a shaky breath. 

"Con-fucking-tinue," she said after a moment.

"How did you get her to drink anything?"

"What do you mean 'get her to?'" said Delilah. "She drank on her own free will, thank you very much. I didn't hex her or use the motherfucking Imperius curse to get her to drink. She's the one who wanted to. She brought me down to the kitchens. She was thinking something about . . . I don't know . . . uh . . what was it? Right, it was 'I might as well do it——'" Delilah stopped short.

"How do you know what she was thinking?" Draco snapped, his grey eyes narrowed.

"J—just a guess," Delilah said, biting her lower lip. Her eyes running over the group of people on couches (she was sat on an armchair), she stood. "Goodnight, I guess."

Then, with a small wave, she walked towards the stairs, and disappeared with a click of her dormitory door.

## 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

hello my _**darlings**_! i hope you all are having an absolutely ✨AMAZING **✨** day! azula potter is an oc from [Theodosia](https://www.quotev.com/Potterhead2402)'s story **Younger** , which you all should check out. hope you all liked this chapter, i guess. ps: azula potter's face claim is julia adamenko. this is a very short chapter, i feel, compared to the last chapter which was, like, twenty pages long. this is ten pages with 3,336 words. i hope you liked this chapter, and as always, tell me what you think in the discussion. bye!

——————— crystalised.


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